Sentiment
by sherlockian4evr
Summary: Sherlock gets injured, causing John to realise how he feels. What does he do? He writes Sherlock a letter. For Sherlock1110@ao3 for helping my through the past year and the past few horrible days.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock,

I know you despise sentiment in all its forms, but right now I really don't care. This letter is full of sentiment. You can, of course, throw it away, unread, but then you will always wonder what it said.

I know you, you're still reading this. Anyway...

The last few days - no years - have been almost impossible. They would have been impossible were it not for you. I know, you'll say two of those horrendous years were your fault and you'd be right, but we've been through that. I understand why you felt you had to jump and I've forgiven you, so let's not rehash it here. There are things I've wanted to tell you for so long and that's what this letter is about.

Thank you. Thank you for giving me my life back that strange day when I walked into the lab at Barts with Mike. I didn't know it as we walked through those doors that I was getting my life back and I wouldn't have believed it if anyone had tried to tell me. I can still feel the thrill of the chase the next day and the laughter we shared standing in 221. Then there was the realisation that you had worked some sort of magic and cured my limp. You saved my life that day. You saved my life nearly every day for almost the next two years.

Then there was Mary and the baby. The less said about them, the better. The entire fiasco hurt more than when I was invalided home. Without you there, well, I might have done something foolish. So, you saved my life again.

When you ended up in hospital a few days ago, I panicked. The person on the phone told me what had happened, but all I heard was 'hit by car' and 'surgery'. I assumed the worst and, honestly, I thought my entire world had come to an end. It turned out you had to have a pin and plate placed in your arm. That's not great, I get that, but it meant you weren't going to die.

This is where things change in this letter, Sherlock, because this is where things changed for me. When I thought you might die, I realised I couldn't live through that again. There's a simple reason for that. I love you. Not as a friend or brother in arms, but with my whole self. There. I've said it. I don't expect things to change between us, but I feel you deserve to know. I won't bring it up again and I won't embarrass you with unseemly shows of affection. All I ask is this, know that your life is precious to someone.

John


	2. Chapter 2

John,

You are a hopeless romantic and value sentiment in all its forms. You are not wrong when you say I eschew it, but I have been unable to avoid it. That is entirely your fault. At first, I was unable to ascertain if your presence in my life was a good thing or not. You were fascinating, seemingly ordinary, but surprisingly unpredictable. Plain, ordinary John Watson. You saved my life the second day I knew you. You shot the cabbie for me. I think I fell in love that night, though I didn't realise it until nearly two years later.

You say we don't have to talk about Barts, but you're wrong. I only told you part of why I jumped. I told you the least significant part. I said it was to save the life of my only friends. I'm telling you now, it was to save the life of the only person I could ever love. The next two years were spent keeping that person safe.

When I came home and you were so happy with Mary, I had to love her for your sake. It was hard at first, but she was easy to love. Of course, she meant herself to be. I know my return to drugs disappointed and hurt you. I suppose now you understand why it happened. All I can say is that I am truly sorry. I am also sorry for everything that came after... Mary, the baby. I tried to be the friend you needed to get over the hurt and to not be the selfish person that I so often am. I'm glad to know I succeeded.

There were so many times since we met that I thought I had lost your friendship and respect forever. I never understood why you kept coming back. Actually, I never understood why you even considered yourself my friend. Now, you tell me three words that mean more to me than life itself and I don't understand how you can possibly mean them, not when you say them to me. I'm rude and antisocial. I've always called myself a sociopath, John. I've never hidden that from you. How can you possibly love me? I don't understand. If you truly do love me, however, know this: I have loved you longer than I've understood the meaning of the word. I will always love you, nothing will ever be able to change that. Life is boring without you. Cases are boring without you. Please, John, I need you more than I need air to breathe.

You say we don't have to talk about this, but you are wrong. When you've read this letter, come find me. I'll be waiting.

Sherlock


	3. Chapter 3

John finished reading Sherlock's letter and laughed. Really, the detective thought John was the romantic one? He read the letter again, grinning stupidly at 'I think I fell in love that night,' 'the only person I could ever love,' 'I have loved you longer than I've understood the meaning of the word,' and 'I need you more than I need air to breathe.' He turned and grabbed his coat on the way out the door, pulling it on as he rushed down the stairs. When he charged out onto the pathway, the doctor didn't hesitate, he took off running. He knew exactly where his detective would be.

Dodging around pedestrians, John covered the distance between 221 and his destination in record time. He stopped across the street and smiled to himself. Sherlock was truly a romantic fool. There he was, sitting at their table in the front window of Angelo's. There were two wine glasses and a candle on the table and the candlelight flickered on his sharp cheekbones. He looked like a mad angel. John's mad angel.

The doctor ran across the street during a break in traffic and entered the restaurant. He waved to Angelo who was beaming and gave him a wave before he slid into the seat across from Sherlock.

"So." John grinned at Sherlock, thinking he had never looked more gorgeous and appealing. "I liked your letter. Actually I loved it. It was absolutely full of sentiment." The doctor stifled a laugh at Sherlock's glare. "And it was completely romantic."

The detective blushed and started playing with the candle on the table. "I prefered your letter, actually." He reached in and pulled it from his pocket. It was ragged about the edges and the creases were worn.

"I can't believe you've been reading it so much." John covered Sherlock's free hand with his own. "Oh, don't look so surprised. Even I can see how worn it is." He paused for a minute and looked into the detective's sea foam green eyes. "Did you mean it, what you said in your letter?"

"More than anything."

John drew closer to Sherlock and put a hand on his shoulder. "I meant every word of mine."

The detective's lips parted and his his tongue darted out to moisten them. "Can we have this? Are we allowed?"

"Mm. Yes."

They both leaned forward and the universe paused. When Sherlock's lips touched John's and they kissed, the universe resumed its motion. Angelo jumped a good six inches in the air, but kept his hands firmly over his mouth so his exclamation of happiness wouldn't disturb them.

John broke the kiss and they looked at one another, neither really believing what had just happened. To reassure themselves that it indeed had, they kissed again. This time, the kiss went deeper and touched them in their hearts. It only broke because breathing was not actually boring.

Angelo came over to the table and placed a take out meal on the table. "No charge. Go home." His smile could have lit up London. "Do what you should have done years ago."

Neither man argued, but gracefully accepted the offering. When they got home, they accepted the advice.


End file.
